The Cadre
by larskygiraffe4
Summary: The cadre before Aelin ever existed. This story follows them through a war with a main focus on Fenrys and his character development. Fenrys, Lorcan, Rowan, Gavriel, Vaughan, & Connall. Rebellious fae have brewed something sinister in their attempt to end Queen Maeve and her army. The cadre have to stand together to protect their kingdom and each other.
1. Chapter 1

Fenrys growled as the wind changed direction and carried his army's smell toward where they were headed. Well, 'army' was a long shot term. His legion was made up of fifty fae warriors sent to put down a small border insurrection. That was all Maeve would trust him with.

His brother's parting words echoed in his ears. Don't screw this up.

The men around him didn't flinch at their commander's growl. They continued marching until Fenrys halted at the crest of the upcoming hill. Before him stretched thick forest with trees as tall as parts of the palace at Doranelle. The thought made his skin prickle. Anywhere was better than being so close to the bitch queen sitting on the throne. Fenrys would take the dry desert sands far to the south over being 'home.'

"Commander?" Fenrys clenched his hand. He was no commander, that honor fell to other much more qualified fae. But he turned to his second-in-command, a shorter male with dark hair braided close to his head. A questioning look crossed his face.

"We camp here tonight."

"This early?"

Fenrys almost grinned. Any other member of Mave's minions would have chewed the male's head off for second guessing. But Fenrys was not like his kin in that regard. "They'll already smell us coming. Better to wait until we are fresh in the morning and send out scouts tonight. Besides, I'm hungry." Chuckles passed through the warriors at the mention of Fenrys' legendary appetite.

Lienne called the order out to the legion, though most of them had probably heard Fenrys' original order. The fae immediately went into a flurry of movement. Tents were erected, campfires built, and several strong magic-wielders erected protective wards around the camp perimeter.

There was no need to monitor. They were all well-trained. Instead, Fenrys meandered and weaved through the busy-bee fae. Occasionally he had to duck jump aside as a fire sprung to life or as a tent magically erected and stood unexpectedly. He soon found the three fae he was searching for. They halted their tent preparations as they saw him coming, each nodding in respect.

Fenrys nodded in return. "Up to scouting? We still need eyes in the sky to see if their numbers or position changes."

All three nodded, the female amongst them saying, "All at once or in turns?"

"You're the experts, I will leave that to you three."

The female again nodded, "Yes, sir."

Three hours later, the sun was almost fully below the horizon. Campfires dotted the small encampment. Fenrys sat eating at his own fire, the other warriors giving him some space. It was preferred as he considered what the next day would bring. Who among them wouldn't come back? Even if it was just one, it was too much of a cost to him. All for some whore queen who delighted in making others as miserable as she.

Fenrys' hand tightened around his canteen of water as the fire crackled. The flames eagerly leapt up toward the pot of stew hanging above. These fae he'd been sent here to squelch were to be punished for standing up for themselves and refusing to bow any longer. He should be helping them, not leading the army who would kill them all.

A white-tailed hawk approached, fanning its wings to slow before landing across from Fenrys. As it landed, it transformed into the female scout he'd sent out earlier.

"News, Highleigh?"

"Nothing new." She looked down and brushed a wrinkle from her blue tunic as she took a seat across the fire from him. His jaw clenched at the unwanted company even as he listened to her report. "They haven't changed position and their numbers look to be holding steady at around a hundred."

"Favorable odds," Fenrys all but spat, knowing full well his fae would wipe the insurgents from the face of the world tomorrow. Two-to-one was considered favorable for them when going up against untrained folk. Hell, even Fenrys himself against fifty untrained villagers would be about even.

A soft expression crossed Highleigh's face. She stood up and went to walk away, putting a light hand on Fenrys' shoulder as she passed. "War is never favorable."

"This isn't war," he restrained the snarl that threatened. It wasn't her fault, afterall. "This is slaughter." He shrugged away from her hand, briefly seeing the hurt that flashed in her steady gray eyes before she lowered her hand.

She had no more sagely advice after that. He could sense her preparing to walk away, but he quickly found himself and said, "Send out scouts two hours before dawn. Good work."

No reply before she was gone as silently as she'd arrived.

Fenrys closed his eyes, knowing some of the warriors had heard. His spite for their queen was no secret despite him trying to remain professional. Tomorrow he wouldn't be fighting for Maeve, he would be fighting for the fae whom he fought shoulder-to-shoulder with. To hell with the queen.


	2. Chapter 2

The camp was cleaned up in thirty minutes the next morning. The scouts reported in with no news. No news was good. Fenrys led the march onward to the location of the kingdom's enemies. His teeth grated at the thought.

Fenrys noted the quiet of the fae around him. The males and females talked less. The clink of their armor drowned out any sounds of the world around them. Were they as apprehensive of this upcoming slaughter as he? Or did he want to believe that they were better than the others who so blindly followed the queen? His thoughts turned to his commander, Lorcan. How often had jealousy crossed the dark warrior's face when Maeve summoned Fenrys to her chambers rather than him? Lorcan had only offered himself to Maeve once, just once. And she had laughed at him. What the brooding male didn't realize was that Maeve didn't want offerings. She wanted to display her power over the unwilling.

Through the woods, they had to loosen their formation as they wove through the tall trees. Some were older, dare he say, than Maeve herself. The tops soared so high even his fae eyesight couldn't see the tops.

"Do you think they would be smart enough to set a trap?" Fenrys looked to his second in command on his left, the man's eyes also raised to the heavens.

Fenrys growled as he replied, "If they can engineer such a clever trap as to get the drop on seasoned fae warriors, then I should recruit them." Anything was better than killing them.

Lienne was wise to remain silent as they both fixated on the woods ahead. The density of the trees left little undergrowth for them to try and maneuver through on the forest floor. The going was easy and swift. Only four hours later, they stood right where the insurgents had been camped for the past week.

"Where the hell are they?" Fenrys breathed in deeply as he attempted to smell for any signs of a previous campsite. Nothing. Not even the scent of a stale campfire, let alone a hundred fae.

He whirled on Highleigh, "Your scouts reported they were here not five hours ago. Now no scent, no tracks. Nothing."

The female straightened and brushed her hair over her shoulder. "That was what they told me, sir. I saw them here with my own eyes only last night."

"Just ghosts then?" he spat harsher than necessary. The female just bowed her head, having no answer to this mystery any more than Fenrys.

But throwing accusations wouldn't do any good. Right now, they were facing an enemy, whom they hadn't the slightest indication of where they had gone.

"You get to redeem yourselves. I want a scout flying in each direction until you find them." Highleigh nodded and began barking at her scouts. "The rest of you, Prepare for an ambush. Drop the supplies and see Lienne for your stations."

No one questioned him as they moved rapidly. They all knew the danger of their situation. Only Lienne turned to Fenrys, the male's dark eyebrows high as he asked, "And where are you going, sir?"

Normally, Fenrys would have helped station the magic-wielders. His second knew him well enough by now. He grinned, "Time to play 'tracking mutt.'"

With that, he transformed into his wolf form, shook out his snow-white fur, and stretched his powerful legs. Even in this body, he wasn't much shorter than his second. He met the fae's gaze, nodded, and then leaped off into the surrounding woods, passing through the wards his warriors had already begun to erect.

The trees flew by as he sprinted around the area where the insurgents supposedly had been camped. Nose in the air or to the ground made no difference. No fae had been in this part of the woods for many, many weeks. Possibly even months. Not that he had expected to find anything else. No, he'd taken off to be left alone, to think. Consider what could've happened. A small army of fae didn't just up and disappear with no trace. Magic could help hide a trail, but few could hide anything so well from his wolf's senses.

There wasn't much to be done until the scouts came back other than prepare for battle. Fenrys sprinted a short radius around where his legion was stationed. No clues of an incoming ambush. The only scents were that of his own people. Even so, he continued running and running until his breathing grew ragged. Only when he began to pant heavily and his feet dragged did he slip back through the magical barriers to his legion.

The scouts' reports weren't good.

First, Fenrys received word that there was a legion of fae gathered to the North of their location. Then, another informed him of a group of fae formed to the south of their location. And the final report told him there was a legion to the East from which they had just traveled.

The only good news was that there were no fae in front of them, to the west.

Fenrys stood gathered around a table in the command tent with Lienne, Highleigh, a few other officers, and also Maeve's little eyes and ears on this trip. He couldn't be bothered to learn the male's name. The conniving spy just sat in the corner with a self-satisfied little grin on his face. No doubt, he would enjoy informing Maeve how grandly Fenrys had botched this mission knowing full well what punishment would await him. He could sometime still feel the lashes of the whip from the last failure. Failure wasn't an option.

"Are they moving?" Lienne asked Highleigh.

She shook her head, "They were battle-ready from the looks but remained stationary. Perhaps waiting."

"Are you sure they weren't moving?" Fenrys said. Highleigh schooled her face into a neutral position as Fenrys snarled at no one in particular, "Are we sure these fae are even here this time?" Armor clinked as the males and females all shifted uncomfortably.

The awkward silence was broken only by the clearing of a throat behind Fenrys. They all turned to look at the female fae who bowed her head. "You summoned me, commander?" Her voice was like butter, which matched her long, smooth locks of hair framing her delicate features. She looked like anything but a warrior in her skin-tight outfit.

The sight of her actually made Fenrys smile, "Teryn, my dear. Come and tell us what you discovered."

As she approached, the smell of apple trees and freshly crushed vanilla filled Fenrys' nose. Teryn halted by him, nodding to the other warriors gathered. "I visited their camp and found answers. Somehow, these fae have utilized powerful magic and created illusions to fool us."

Highleigh snarled, "Do you think my scouts incompetent, girl? We smelled them! They were there!"

Teryn, to her credit, blinked slowly, though Fenrys could hear her heart rate pick up. "These fae are experts."

Fenrys muttered darkly, "Supposedly, so are we."

She held his gaze for a moment at the interruption, and Fenrys had the hubris to grin before bowing slightly in apology.

She continued, "They managed to synthesize sight, sound, and smell. Not just here, but also to conceal their army. This is powerful magic."

"We have some powerful magic too," Lienne pointed out.

Fenrys steered the talk back on course, "What's the latest headcount?"

Grim-faced, Highleigh said, "One thousand."

Silence answered her. If the number had simply changed from one-hundred to one-thousand, it could have been handled. They would have stopped and spent hours strategizing how to thin the opposition and get the advantage. But the fact that these fae were wielding powerful magic put them at a disadvantage against those kinds of numbers. Either Maeve didn't know the true threat posed, or she thought it amusing to watch Fenrys get his ass handed to him.

He turned to Teryn, "Given your assessment, do you think it wise to engage?"

She blinked slowly, reminding Fenrys of a cat. "Your losses would be catastrophic."

Again, silence met that. This was a commander's decision now.

Fenrys glanced to where Maeve's slave observed further away. "Are any of the legions close enough to offer aid?"

A sneer curled over the male's face. "There is. Two days away."

Fenrys didn't bother asking how he already knew. "Contact them and implore for reinforcements."

The male's dark eyes narrowed at the order, but he didn't object as he walked out of the tent. Only the threat of retribution from Maeve stayed his hand in flaying the bastard for the disrespect.

"Sir," one of his other officers asked. "Two days is a long time. I doubt our enemies will wait that long."

A wolfish grin crept over Fenrys' face. "Leave that to me."


End file.
